Penelope
by dreamer-and-dreamless
Summary: When Penelope Suenos finds herself doomed to have the life she promised to never live, she turns to the one person she thought could take her away from it all. Unfortunately, it never is that easy- Neverland's at war, and now she's right in the middle of it. OC/Peter, rated T just as a precaution. Wow this is lame. Whatever.
1. Chapter 1

It's just something I've been working on... to say a couple things: Peter is around 16 years old, and the story is set in modern-ish times. It'll all be explained later.

* * *

This is it.

Peter stood, unbearably frustrated, on the white sands just outside Mermaid's Lagoon, and watched glumly as the steady waves rose to the sky and crashed back down to the beach, almost- but not quite- reaching his toes before falling back and being reclaimed by the sea. He likes to come here to collect his thoughts sometimes: the beauty of his beloved Neverland was always the distraction he needed to set himself straight when he was having a bad day. But not this time.

At this very moment, a pair of dark, brooding eyes were watching him from just inside the forest that stood behind him, the boy who wore them probably unaware that peter already knew he was there. It was Henry, of course, a former Lost Boy. He had felt his cold glare on his back for a while now, but was still trying to see if there was a chance he could avoid this war. He had never thought it would have come to that- friend turned against friend- or at least, not yet. Peter did not want to fight. He knew that this time, he would not win. Most of the other Lost Boys had joined Henry in his scheme to overthrow him, and the last who remained were ordered to stay hidden for their own safety. The Indians had been captured, the handful of pirates left on Neverland after Hook's downfall long ago had teamed up with the traitors and were keeping the fairies in check, and the mermaids were nowhere to be seen. He had nothing left. It was the beginning of the end.

Or was it?

He had promised he would never go back. Too much had changed the last time he had gone, and too much was lost. It was the reason Neverland was at the brink of chaos in the first place. But he was running out of options.

There was a sharp crack behind him as though a rock had been thrown at tree- Henry's less than subtle attempt at making his presence known as his small, thin form appeared from behind the shadows, dagger at the ready. Peter sighed reluctantly, pretending to ignore him. He didn't seem to be left with much of a choice, did he? He knew the boy would follow him, and wouldn't return until he was found. With Henry gone, Neverland would be safe from his reign. There was no other way.

Peter took a step forward, than another, and another, all the while watching Henry approach him from the corner of his eye. The boy charged as realization hit, but Peter was too fast; with one swift kick into the air he flew out or reach, and in a few short moments he was lost in the stars.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry, sorry. Not so funny story actually, I actually finished most of this chapter a while ago but it was deleted when the internet reset. So... awesome. You'd think I would have learned my lesson the last three times it happened in my other story.

Sorry again.

Especially if this chapter disappoints you.

Sorry.

* * *

_I can't believe this is it, _Pen thought to herself, fidgeting with her unbearably tight corset. She hated this dress. She hated the lace ruffles spilling from her waist, itching her legs even through her under-dress, and how uncomfortably bare her shoulders felt without anything covering them. She despised these damn shoes, cutting into the back of her heel and pinching her toes together, greeting every step she took with teeth-grinding pain. And she especially loathed the heavily embroidered mask between her fingers, the pins holding it to her face having unfastened for the tenth time in thirty minutes. She only wished it covered enough of her to allow her to escape this party.

"Having fun, Penelope?" Angela, her younger sister, whispered teasingly from behind their father's back, beaming at him innocently when he paused his conversation about stock exchange long enough to frown at her. He had put together this whole "birthday party" for her, decorating the ballroom of their huge and beautiful estate and inviting all his "friends", although she doubted he actually knew most of them personally. Despite the perfectly good dance floor, she and her sister have spent the last half hour standing numbly at his shoulders as he greeted each guest that managed to tear themselves from the herd of stiff, gossiping upperclassmen taking up most of the room to say hello.

She was bored out of her mind, but had no hope for good conversation, seeing how almost everyone at the party were self-obsessed, middle aged couples with little or no interest in neither her nor her sister. Her only hope was maybe one of the twelve year olds huddling at a table with a tray of finger sandwiches, obviously only brought along to entertain each other while their parents mingled and got drunk. She wished she could join them, and talk about kid things, like her fool proof stay-home-sick routine and the adventures she used to have with the friends who used to visit before she had her accident. Stuff she was good at, unlike what she was doing now, pretending to be some ornament that somehow makes her father look better, even if she wasn't doing a very good job.

Pen groaned, re-attaching the mask before whipping open her fan, so that her father wouldn't see her scowling from behind it. "No, I don't think that's how I'd describe how I'm feeling right now," she grumbled, ignoring the disapproving Don't-Speak-While-I'm-Speaking Look her father shot in her direction this time before once again returning to his attention to his guest. Once they were sure he was distracted, each sister took a couple steps backwards, to avoid interrupting him again.

Angela continued. "Oh come _on_, it'll be fun once we get the chance to mingle. It's like were royalty." She was clearly thrilled with the idea, teetering forward and back and smiling shamelessly. Pen resisted rolling her eyes. "But that's the thing Angie: we're not. And Father does _not_ have this many friends. I don't see why so many people have to be here for this." She felt sick to her stomach, although whether it was because of the outfit or occasion she wasn't so sure.

Angela chewed on her lip, mulling this over, but shrugged indifferently. "So what if they're not all his friends? It's not every day that someone like our father celebrated his daughter's sixteenth birthday, especially not a daughter like you. Everyone's here to celebrate your life. So be excited!" Angela's grin widened- if that was even possible- as though to demonstrate the amount of excitement Pen should be displaying.

But how could she? Pen knew that despite the supposed innocence behind her father's intentions when he set all this up, it wasn't a mere birthday party. He's been planning it since she was born practically, every since her grandfather named her as the sole heir of his vast fortune, and her father's business began to run out of funds. She inherited everything- the money, the house, the cars, with one catch: she has to get married, first. Granted, marriage at sixteen was a tad bit outdated, and it was probably obvious to everyone in the room that she was being sold out to save her father's sorry butt from his own bad business call, but it was legal, and it was happening, and there was nothing she could do about it. So now here she was, trapped in this prison of a ballgown, awaiting the moment he formerly dooms her to a lifetime of one-sided conversations and being forced to watch life from behind windows. Just like her mother.

"Girls, I'd like you to meet my good friend Maxwell Simmons," her father announced over his shoulder, double-taking when he didn't catch that his daughters were no longer stationed obediently beside him at first glance. Penelope sighed, trying to push the dark, hopeless weight off her chest as she reclaimed her spot at his right hand. She put on a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry I don't get to update as much as I would like to. I have a very difficult and stressful writing process and two little brothers. And also countless insecurities about continuing this story at all. I also didn't realize how much I had written for this chapter, so I split it in two. This story will probably have a lot of chapters, seeing how most of it isn't in this setting and I haven't even gotten to when the adventure starts yet.

Oh, did I mention Pen's house is set in Spain? It's not really relevant, but imagining the dialogue being spoken in that accent kind of gives me a certain perspective. She could even be talking in Spanish to her sister, how would we know?

* * *

The hours Pen had spent greeting the countless numbers of guests her father invited had gone by so slowly that she was almost positive that time had stopped altogether just to torture her. She was dizzy with longing to be somewhere- anywhere- else, so much that she had taken to pretending that she was, while the whole party became a haze in the background. There _was_ no party. No engagement. She closed her eyes, and imagined herself dancing alone in a place that had no real name or definition, the one she'd traveled to so many times in her dreams. She could feel calm, soothing coolness at her feet, as though she was dancing in a shallow stream while somehow staying dry, and the gentle beat of the sun as it rose to the heavens, giving her enough strength that she felt she could keep going forever. She knew that so long as she was there, nothing and no one could ever hurt her. There, she was finally free.

Until she felt a sharp pain in her side.

Pen blinked, disorientated by the sudden change of atmosphere. The relief from the stream water was replaced with the pinching of her dreaded heels, the calming stillness turned to five men and women she couldn't recognize, but were staring at her expectantly. And Angela, who's fingers were still just inches away from where she had just pinched her, ready to do it again. Now suddenly under the pressure of having a mob of people waiting for her to say something about whatever had just happened, she pressed her lips together, lost for words.

Of course, her sister came to her rescue. Angela stepped forward, taking her hand and petting it as though it was an injured animal, her eyes somewhat concerned. "Are you alright?" she asked, turning to the man closest to her before Pen could respond. "I'm sorry Mr. Ruiz, my sister and I are too restless from standing around all evening to truly enjoy your story. We should take a break, and when we come back you can start from the beginning." She smiled apologetically and Penelope chewed on the inside of her cheek, attempting to copy her sincerity, and failing miserably.

"Of course, Miss Suenos," the man replied, and just like that the situation was smoothed over. Angela's always been able to do that sort of thing: since she was small, she could put anyone's mind at ease, no matter how unwilling. Pen was sure that her sister's manipulation skills should concern her, seeing how it was probably what made everyone always favor the younger sister over herself, but she's never had a problem with being the family screw up. She's always hoped that it would eventually result in her father giving up on her by the time she got to this age.

Pen groaned internally at the reminder of her inevitable doom, allowing herself to be led away from the crowd and to the nearest caterer offering punch. She numbly took a glass and sipped it, holding the rim to her lips as she peered cautiously around the room for her father. She had just noticed he hadn't been with them when Angela took over the entertaining of the guests, but she had been too absorbed in her daydream to notice him leave. And now, she couldn't see him anywhere.

"He left a while ago to discuss some business in his office. Something about distributing the new money that was coming in," Angela answered her unspoken question_. _"Of course," Pen grumbled. The money he gets once he shackles her to some guy. Angela pursed her lips, the same way their mother had whenever she was disappointed, but Pen ignored her, cupping her hands around her glass and tapping against it with her fingernails. They stood in silence for a few seconds- bliss for Pen, but it was torture to her sister.

"I take it you're still not enjoying your party," Angela blurted out finally, holding her own glass neatly in front of her, in a way Pen imagined a princess would. She didn't answer, staring ahead at nothing. Angela rolled her eyes, clearly anxious about the way Pen wasn't up for conversation. She rocked from heel to toe, eyes darting around the room, until finally she leaned in and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Penelope, you are going to have to get used to this sooner or later. I know that _getting engaged_-" she mouthed the dreaded words- "isn't exactly what you want from your life right now, but it can't be too bad once you get used to it. Mom did it, and look how she ended up."

_Dead, _Pen thought, but she didn't have the heart to say that out loud. Her little sister never understood what their mother's death had meant to her, what promise she had had for herself before it all fell to pieces once her own marriage to their father was arranged. She had been really small when she passed, and being the perfect princess she was, it was unlikely that Angela ever saw that side of her. It was only Pen who had managed to catch glimpses of the gloomy, hallow version of their mom that came out every time Pen screwed something up, the one that seemed tired and bitter, as though she was sick of her own existence and just wanted to disappear. She had died of something completely unrelated- an illness no one noticed until it was too late- but Pen couldn't imagine anyone seeming more relieved to find out they only had a few days to live.

"I'm not our Mother," Pen replied instead, her voice harder than she had expected. "I'm not just going to stand around in a big empty house while some cold-hearted man I barely know plans my life out for me. I've already had enough of that with our Father."

Angela gave her a Look, like it was _so_ unladylike and wrong to speak out about their father that way, but she pretended not to hear, looking around at the faces that surround them. "Chances are, you probably know whoever Father set up for you. Very well." She grinned mischievously, looking more like the little girl who used to help Pen set up pranks all over the house than the angel she's become.

Pen stared at her. This thought had already come to mind, but having stayed up the night before for hours, trying to figure out which one of the co-workers her father worked with would have agreed to this, she had already come to the conclusion that none of them would have been interested. Who would agree to marry a teenage girl they've never even seen before? It had to be someone she hadn't already thought of. Angela grinned, but kept her mouth shut, waiting for her sister to egg her on.

"Oh, my dear Angela, who do _you_ presume he picked out for me?" she asked sarcastically. Angela's eyes sparkled, clearly thrilled with the opportunity. With their being homeschooled, and only allowed to go into town with their housekeeper twice a year for new clothes, they rarely get a chance to talk about boys. "Well I don't know exactly, but if I'm right-"

"Girls."

The sisters straightened up, spinning around in unison to greet the man behind the voice. "Mr. Aiza!" the girls grinned matching smiles. Mr. Aiza, their homeschool tutor, was the only man they could truly stand (although Angela adds their father to the list)- he had a eyes that always twinkled, big bushy eyebrows and a grin that took up most of his face, so that when he smiled it looked like he was mischievously plotting something fun. He also happened to be the only one kind enough not to mistake Pen's clumsy and adventurous nature with incompetence.

"I didn't think you were going to make it," Angela added, wincing when Pen pinched her arm. Her father had only invited him out of politeness, and with his poor status and pregnant wife, no one had thought he was actually going to come. Mr. Aiza let it slide, his grin widening. "My wife and I thought it would be a good idea to be there when you... you know..." Pen's smile dropped instantly, remembering again. "Right."

"Besides, my sixth sense told me you two needed my help, and turns out I'm right. So I thought that one of you would like to dance." He bowed dramatically, clearly a joke about how dances usually went down in movies about princesses or, presumably, prom. Pen backed off and let her sister go, knowing that she could never pass up a chance to dance especially having stood still for so long.

Angela giggled as she was spun wildly around the room by their mischievous teacher, earning a few chuckles from the bystanders as they attempted to get everyone off the middle of the dance floor with their dramatic twirls. Once the floor had cleared out they slowed to a more appropriate speed, giving Angela the gentle, pretty dance she had originally hoped for.

Pen backed further into the crowds and watched for retorts, but everyone was too dazzled by the way they moved around the room, princess and professor, to complain. Slowly, couples started to join them on the dance floor, migrating back to the center of the room. Pen grinned: finally, this party may be getting somewhere.


	4. Chapter 4

Yep.

* * *

The party instantaneously got better once Mr. Aiza and Angela took up the dance floor. It was actually sort of cute, the way these stale old men stumbled over their words as they suggested dancing to their wives, and getting to watch these snobby couples try to hide that they were actually having fun for a few minutes before giving in. As for Pen herself- she kept downing as many punch glasses as she could, so that any single men heading her way thought she was too busy to try to talk to her. She didn't need to be reminded of what her options were.

Of course, the most dazzling person on the dance floor had to be her baby sister. That was the difference between Pen and Angela: while one was so willing to be the flawless porcelain doll that glided across the dance floor in her one-of-a-kind ballgown and easy smile, Pen knew that no matter how perfect her long spiraling curls of almost-black hair was, no matter how beautiful of a dress she was wearing, she was still a piece of meat sitting behind glass at the butchery, or some sort of animal who is only brought out when guests are over, their whole purpose to put on a show. After spending a lifetime watching what had happened to her mother, she had done anything and everything to rebel against what she thought they expected of her. Her greatest fear is that she'll probably end up living this life anyways.

There was a timid tap on her shoulder, startling Pen to the point that she almost spilled her newest glass of punch all over herself. She turned to glare at whoever did it, but lucky for him, it was just one of those kids she had seen hoarding the tray of finger foods earlier, and Pen can never stay mad at a kid. He looked even smaller up close, with curly, fire-red hair, huge brown eyes, and a face full of freckles. The other three boys were standing directly behind him, wearing similar, wide-eyed expressions; once she had seen him he tried to back away, and one of the kids blocked his path, nudging him forward.

"Do you, um..." His voice was quiet to begin with, and got even quieter with each word.

"Sure," Pen smiled. She had secretly really wanted to dance, but spending time with all these strangers always made her uncomfortable. Of course, kids have always been a whole other story. She's always felt more at ease around them. They are more innocent. When they talk to her, it's probably because they want to talk to her, and not because they have a secret agenda like most of the adults. Plus, seeing how he had the courage to ask her in the first place, despite her being four years older, a foot taller, the birthday girl, and engaged, she didn't think a rejection would help much with his self esteem.

It was clear that the boy had never done this before. He knew the general steps and spins, but he probably never continued to practice after his mom finished teaching him the basics. His clammy hands and their height difference didn't help much either, but it wasn't so bad. "You haven't come to my house before, have you?" she wondered, letting him attempt to lead. The boy nodded, his eyes never leaving his own feet. "We are visiting from America. My dad runs an office there for your dad's business."

"Nice." She'd never been to America, but it had always been one of those places she's always wanted to go, just to see if it was as amazing as the stories say. "How long are you staying?"

"A few more days."

"Well if you want, there is a secret cave in the forest next to my house. I'm not allowed to go, but if you come back here before you leave I have a map, hidden in the drawer of that table by the front door. There's all kinds of neat things you and your friends can have." In fact, just before the accident she had stashed a couple things in there, things she had planned on getting back once she returned with her friends.

"Really?" The boy's face lit up, her words making him forget that he still didn't really know how to dance. She tried to go along with his missteps, but the memories of her adventurous childhood kept flashing before her eyes, distracting her. "Yeah, I used to go explore those woods all the time with my little sister. My father doesn't let me anymore, though."

"Why not?" He's eyes followed another pair on the dance floor- suddenly, the man reeled his wife in and spun her back out, her dress skirt twirling like an ice cream cone. It was odd, because she didn't remember the two of them being invited. They just appeared when the music came on, already in costume. But Pen could tell the kid wanted to try it, so she tried to distract him with her story. "I got in an accident. My father thought I was too reckless to be out on my own, and made me stay inside."

His attention snapped back to their conversation. "What happened?" The results from her plan was bitter sweet: on one hand, he seemed to have momentarily forgotten about the move the older couple was doing. On the other, now he wanted to hear more about the day she single-handedly ran her own life into the ground. She tried to keep it simple. "I, um, almost drowned."

His eyes were twice as big as they had been when he first approached her, reminding her of what a cartoon character must look like if he was brought into reality. "Whoa," he whispered. "How did it happen? How did you _live_?"

Bringing up this story was probably the stupidest thing she had ever done, except perhaps the incident itself. She wished she could take it back, and talk about anything else. She would rather talk about schoolwork than this. She'd rather talk about _clothes _than this. Well, maybe not clothes. "Well, I don't really like to talk about it, but let's just say I had the brilliant idea of jumping into fifteen feet of water without knowing how to swim. And a friend saved me," she added the last part as an afterthought, only just remembering the second part of his question.

"Whoa..." he repeated, his eyes glossy, as though he was trying to imagine it. He shivered, and looked up at her, his eyes accusing. "You only told me that story because you don't want me to try that spin, didn't you?"

Pen tried to falter her smile, relieved that he had changed the subject. "Is it that obvious?"

"Could I change your mind if I told you I'm almost positive I can do it?" He had stopped moving in his plea, but Pen was still uncertain. She'd been spun out of control before, back when she was being taught. Granted, it had been her fault, but it still wasn't pleasant. Then his eyes settled, and a small, smug smile spread across his face. "If you let me, I'll bring you back something from the cave."

Damn.

"Fine," she agreed reluctantly. "But be careful, and I want my mother's necklace. It's hanging from a nail that's sticking out of the left side of the cave's wall. Don't. Forget." She pointed her finger at him, staring him down, but it didn't seem to bother him that much. "Okay, promise," he swore quickly, giving her a huge, goofy grin. Pen pressed her lips together into a very thin line, unsure about the over-eagerness in his voice and on his face. She knew before it happened that he was going to let her slip, and sure enough, her hand flew out of his grasp and she spun twice, before running smack into someone's chest, the blow knocking her backwards.

A pair of strong arms caught her around the waist before she hit the ground, steadying her as easily as picking a paper cup back up after the wind knocked it over. She supposed it wouldn't be too difficult to accomplish picking her up- being on the shorter side and built like a ballerina- but she took a moment to curse the puffy dress for making it seem no less effortless regardless. Pen shook her head, dazed by the crash, and peered up at her rescuer until her eyes shifted into focus. "Are you okay?" he asked, the concern and his brilliant blue eyes all to familiar.

Oh, great.

* * *

Sorry I also realize I tend to end my chapters in tiny cliffhanger sentences. I really should fix that. Oh well.


End file.
